


A Demon's Shadow

by GeekyGirlfriends



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Borg - Freeform, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekyGirlfriends/pseuds/GeekyGirlfriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picard fears the worst as strange happenings start to occur all over the ship in conjunction with his presence and wishes. He suspects Q is the culprit behind these occurrences but soon finds he's quite mistaken. An overall journey of healing and self-discovery for Picard ensues. </p><p>Very mild Q/Picard that's mostly at the end of the story and isn't terribly relevant to the plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Demon's Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this in a frenzied rush only a week or two before the deadline for the Strange New World's writing contest. Sadly, I didn't win the contest, but I'm sure there will be other opportunities in the future. I don't think this story half bad so here it is for anyone to read. And, by the way, the very gay part at the end was something I added after the contest was over (for some reason it would have disqualified me). I hope you enjoy this story!

Captain Picard leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Looking at all the PADDs scattered across his desk for the past few hours was making his eyes ache. He just longed for the comfort of his bed, but he needed to get this paperwork done. He sighed and leaned forward towards his desk again. He stooped over one of the last PADDs he had to look over with his head cradled in his hands and, as he felt himself nodding off, he shook his head to stop himself from falling asleep before he was finished. The captain scoffed at himself, “You’re not as young as you used to be, Jean-Luc.”

He languidly rose from his seat and strode over to the replicator. He was about to request his usual drink of choice when a cup of Earl Grey materialized before him without his lips letting forth a single word of command. At first he could hardly believe it. He stood next to the replicator with his mouth agape and blinked his eyes several times as if the cup might disappear when given the chance. Yet, to his ongoing surprise, the cup remained as it had been. He reached out and was able to hold it in his hand. It felt just like any other cup of Earl Grey he had ever ordered from the replicator. He brought the hot beverage to his face, steam rose up to curl and brush against his nose. He quickly put the cup back down, finally convinced it was most likely real.

He put a hand to his forehead and whispered, “I really must sleep or I might go entirely mad. Paperwork can wait if it will cost me my sanity.” He slowly backed away from the replicator and finally turned in for the night as he had wanted to from the start. In his abject horror he had forgotten to recycle the tea.

Moments after Picard had fallen fast asleep the mug he had abandoned vanished with a flash of white light.

. . .

The next day, after completing the last of the inane paperwork he had left unfinished the night before, Captain Picard strolled down to the holodeck with his saddle in tow. It was obvious from last night that he needed to at least get _some_ relaxation and recreation. What better way to unwind than with the companionship of a horse? Just as he reached the doorway to the holodeck, the computer’s voice informed him, “Program: Picard Equestrian Ten is ready.”

The captain incredulously stared at the doors to the holodeck and muttered to himself, “That can’t be. There must be some kind of malfunction. I’ve not even created a tenth equestrian program yet.” All the same, curiosity drove him forward and he stepped into what his mind had envisioned being programed into the holodeck for the day’s ride.

Strong winds infused with salt they had picked up off the breaking waves whipped around Picard’s body as he winced against the sunny landscape. A sandy shoreline stretched out before him for miles in either direction while half-tame horses grazed on the scattered patches of seagrass. Waves lazily lapped up around the captain’s riding boots while he stood stock still in horrific wonder at even the light house on the distant horizon. A golden light house he had only seen in his dreams stood there clearly in plain sight, brightly radiating in the sunlight and inviting exploration.

His synthetic heart threatened to burst through his organic rib cage as the sound of pounding blood and breaking waves roared in his ears. He knew not how long he stood there in the waves before he shouted, “It can’t be! This can’t be happening to me! How is this happening?!” He started to tremble, but before he dropped his saddle in the false water around his feet, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He would have jumped out of his skin, but he knew that hand. It was a strange thing to understand, but he instantly knew exactly who was there just by her touch.

Guinan’s calming voice quietly pried at his stranglehold on terror by asking, “Don’t you think you’ve scared yourself enough for today, Jean-Luc?” He was so dumbstruck at the notion he had scared himself that he nearly forgot the situation concerning his sanity as he bemusedly stared at his friend. Guinan smiled (sometimes this was too easy) and casually directed, “Come on, let’s go to Ten Forward. I’ll buy you a drink.” Her hand migrated down to his bicep and she tugged him toward the exit.

Picard sighed as his heart started to slow down to normal speed. “Yes, I . . . think that would be in my best interest,” he finally acquiesced as he forced his feet to move him out into the corridor and toward Ten Forward with Guinan by his side. He could not help but take one last glance back into the holodeck, still hardly able to believe his eyes or trust his perception. He nearly stopped dead in his tracks when he thought he saw a figure in the holodeck but the doors closed and Jean-Luc dragged his feet forward. Whoever it had been probably was not real anyway.

. . .

In the same moment Picard had fully situated himself on a barstool Guinan handed him a cup of Chamomile tea from the other side of the bar. The captain dejectedly stared at the aromatic drink. It was just what he had thought would be the best to calm his nerves at this time. He was about to open his mouth to point out he had not verbally asked for this drink in particular but was quickly reassured by his friend and bartender. Guinan leaned on the bar and told him, “I know you didn’t ask for it but it’s not an uncommon treatment for frayed nerves either. Besides, what you tend to drink doesn’t exactly have a calming effect.”

He sighed, minutely slumping in his seat and conceded, “You’re right. I just _need_ to get a grip on things.” He cradled the cup in his hands, letting the warmth radiate through his palms before he took a sip. Once the warm, sweet, tea had found its way to rest in his belly he held Guinan’s gaze and asked, “Do _you_ think I’ve gone mad?”

She handed him a half-cocked smile, shook her head, and said in a reassuring tone, “Not at all.” She leaned in closer to add, “But, I have felt like something wasn’t quite right around here ever since late last night. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until we were leaving the Holodeck. I think Q’s behind anything strange that’s happened to you.”

Picard had been in the middle of taking another sip of his tea and nearly choked on the liquid at the mention of Q. He coughed and slapped his chest with his hand before he was finally able to push out, “Why would Q be doing this to me?”

Guinan shrugged and merely said, "Maybe he’s bored? But, even if his intentions aren’t sinister, I don’t like that he’s around."

Picard was about to reply, when the comm badge he had applied to his riding outfit out of the sheer habit of putting it on, chimed in, "Riker to Picard, we need you on the bridge." The grave tone of his first officer's voice set off alarm bells in Picard's head that would constantly wail in the back of his mind before he got to the bottom of this.

The captain tapped his badge and stoically replied, "On my way." He poured what was left of his tea down over the rock sitting in the pit of his stomach. No tea could ever erode a stone so hardened and compounded by such worry and fear. He looked at Guinan, somewhat at a loss for the right thing to say other than, "Perhaps we can continue this another time."

He slid off his chair and rushed off toward the bridge, still in his damp riding outfit. Guinan called after him, "I'll make sure we do."

. . .

Once he emerged onto the bridge, he spotted Riker, who was leaning on Data’s console to look over the android’s shoulder at the most current projections. As Picard walked down to the lower level of the bridge he commanded, in as restrained a tone as he could manage, “Give me a status report, number one.” Riker looked up from the monitor he and Data were both studying. The captain stood on the opposite side of the console and gazed down at what was displayed there.

Picard’s artificial heart nearly skipped a beat when he saw what was in front of him. Riker’s voice, just as grave as over the comm badge, floated around the captain’s bald cranium entreating, “Sir, I think it would be best if Commander Data and I briefed you in your ready room.”

Jean-Luc numbly affirmed this request with a quiet, “Yes, I believe you’re right.” He walked over into his ready room and sat down behind his desk to be assured what he had already surmised from the information on Data’s monitor.

Once the door to the room swished closed, Riker started to explain, “About an hour ago Data spotted a vessel at the very edge of our long range sensors.”

Data jumped in, “While it is not uncommon to pick up such readings, I found this one in particular to be quite odd. It was, to my estimation, quite slowly heading on a course to intersect with us. I decided to monitor it at regular intervals to prove my hypothesis. Unfortunately, I happened to be right in my calculations. These are the readings I picked up from the vessel.” Data handed Picard a PADD with all the data he had collected on the approaching ship. The captain grimly skimmed over it as Data continued to explain, “While we do not have a clear picture of the vessel yet, the specifications pertaining to mass, velocity, and propulsion are all congruent with those of a Borg Cube.”

Picard’s heart really skipped a beat when he finally heard the words come out of Data’s mouth. He gazed up at the two men before him and Riker added, “We don’t know why they’re targeting us directly when there are at least two other starships in the sector, not to mention any merchant vessels that might be passing through. Mr. Data was kind enough to construct several hypotheses that are outlined in the PADD he gave you.”

Data piped up again, “The most probable of which is that there is a Borg transmitter located somewhere on the ship and that the Borg are honing in on its frequency.”

“But how would such a device have gotten onto my ship?” Picard finally asked.

Data simply replied, “It is possible that it was floating through space as a minute particle of space junk and attached to the hull of the _Enterprise_ when we collided with it sometime in the near past.”

Picard nodded. It was just like the Borg to have such diversely adaptable equipment that could infiltrate nearly anything. “Have Commander La Forge scan the hull for any and all debris. Number one, keep me updated on any and all new developments,” he looked down at the riding outfit he was still in and added, “in the meantime, I’m going to change out of this get up.”

Riker smirked down at his captain. Even with the dire state of affairs it was still rather amusing to see the great Captain Jean-Luc Picard sitting behind his ready room desk looking like he was getting ready to go horse racing rather than command a starship. Data interrupted the first officer’s thought by asking innocently, “Commander, why are you smiling? Is this situation amusing in some way?”

Riker shook his head and said, “I’ll explain it to you later, Data.” Data still bore a look of pure confusion while he and Riker walked back onto the bridge. Picard appreciated the taking of solace in jest at a time like this, but only wished he was not developing such a pounding headache. He rubbed his palm on his forehead and sighed before getting up to finally change out of his ridiculous outfit.

. . .

Picard stepped into his quarters and instantly felt drenched in the sweet aroma of lavender that permeated the entire room. He was hardly able to fathom what on Earth was in store for him now as he walked into the almost offensively sweet-smelling living area. He tried to ignore the reek of lavender for the moment and merely moved to the bedroom to get changed. While he was in his room, he had to admit that the odd lavender scent had a rather soothing quality to it; he almost felt like the pain in his head was seeping out of his skull. It then struck him. His mother had once told him that lavender oil was used to treat headaches before the advent of modern medicine. When he was a small boy, she had even sent him out on “missions” to find pick wild lavender for her. She often used the blossoms to make soothing lavender tea. This revelation would have startled him before, but he stayed calm, knowing it was most likely just another trick Q was playing on him.

After changing into a uniform, Picard walked back out into the living room and saw what was giving off the powerful smell. Sitting in the replicator there was a rather large bowl of lavender oil with tiny lavender blossoms floating in the fragrant liquid. As Jean-Luc came closer to the bowl he spotted a small piece of cream colored paper leaning against its side. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. On the opposite side of the paper there was a small memo in elegant golden script which read, "Be careful what you wish for, mon capitaine." There was no signature, but it was abundantly clear to Jean-Luc who had left the note–only Q referred to him as “mon capitaine.”

The captain angrily crumpled up the note and threw it on the floor. He shouted at the empty air, “I’ve had quite enough of your parlor tricks, Q! If you’re so bored with the vast universe that you need to toy with me then at least do it to my face. I have far more important things to do than entertain _you_.” He waited for a few moments, half expecting Q to flash into reality at such a taunt, but then threw his arms up and left for the bridge. He could not spare a single second and Q could so easily find him if that was the being’s prerogative.

As Picard left his quarters he did not notice the brief flash of light that took away both the crumpled note and the bowl of lavender oil.

. . .

By the time he even _thought_ about returning back to his quarters it was quite late. He had been busying himself with paperwork of one sort or another, managing to sneak in some light reading after he was done with that just to keep himself up and his mind occupied. _Hamlet_ was not his favorite of the bard’s plays, but it certainly was not a bad distraction. Jean-Luc was just finishing the play and his most recent cup of Earl Grey when Data came into his ready room. Picard immediately looked up from his book and asked, “Has Commander La Forge finally finished scanning the entire hull?”

“Yes, sir. However, there was nothing of Borg origin found on the exterior of the _Enterprise._ Geordi now believes that a transmitter may have either penetrated through the hull and integrated with the ship or attached to one of the shuttlecrafts while it was in use.”

The captain sighed, feeling his headache from before coming back. He looked down and rubbed his temple. “Well, tell Mr. La Forge to get some rest, its late enough as it is and tired minds are no help to such problems,” he pulled his head up to look at Data and continued, “In the meantime, you should see if either of these new hypotheses are true.”

Data politely agreed, “Yes, sir.” He did not leave right away, though.

Data merely stood there for several long seconds before Picard finally asked, “Is there something on your mind, Data?”

“May I speak frankly, sir?”

“By all means, Data. It’s not as if I’m in the middle of important Starfleet business anyway,” he added as he tugged at the cover of _Hamlet._

Data stepped a bit closer to Picard’s desk and asked, “It is just that I do not understand why you want Geordi to go to sleep and yet you are still awake. There is no immediate danger to the ship, and your mind is conceivably the most important in solving the problems of the _Enterprise._ Yet, you are not sleeping, and do not seem to be intent on going to sleep anytime soon as is denoted by your choice of beverage.” Data gestured to the cup of Earl Grey on Picard’s desk and added, “Black tea contains more caffeine than any other tea native to Earth.”

Picard smirked, he could hardly argue with Data’s reasoning, even though he wished he could. He wanted to put off him laying down in bed as long as possible because he knew he would only toss and turn with the day’s events running through his mind. Even so, he knew Data was right. He closed _Hamlet,_ putting it to the side and merely said, “You’re quite right. I should get some rest, too.” He stood and put away his mug to be recycled back into the replicator. Just as the captain turned back to his desk to retrieve his book, he saw his reflection in the window of his ready room.

Picard instantly froze in place, so disturbed with what was reflected there. The headache that had started to trickle down his skull came crashing over him like a wave. He spun wildly around in the undertow and, in his fright and pain, gained almost entire clarity to what had been happening. His eyes stayed fixed on his reflection even as he heard Data asking what he saw. His eyes stayed fixed on that figure even as his head pounded with pain and revelation. His eyes stayed fixed on the half-human half-machine incarnation of him even as he fell to the ground. He wanted to scream, to question how this could be happening, but he soon fell unconscious where he lay on the floor. He was helpless.

. . .

When he opened his eyes next, there was a blinding white light surrounding him. He stood and blinked against the harsh light. While his eyes slowly adjusted, he saw a figure standing several feet in front of him. He did not recognize the unnaturally pure obsidian and alabaster form until the red laser augment flashed in his face. His breath caught in his chest at being confronted with this specter again. He took a few steps back, not taking his eyes off Locutus.

The Borg with his face took a few steps back as well, so the distance between the two beings was lengthened by a foot or two. Picard cocked his head in slight confusion and Locutus mirrored his movement. Picard raised his right arm and Locutus raised his left. Picard lowered his arm and Locutus followed suit.

The captain's brow furrowed with confusion. This was _not_ what assimilation felt like. Picard nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a breath on the back of his neck and Q's chocolatey smooth voice commented, "He's kind of creepy, isn't he? Black and white look so ghoulish on you, Jean-Luc."

He let out a sigh of relief at it merely being Q rather than some other entity that had malicious intent. He turned around to face his captor who was yet again draped in white to masquerade as God. He pointedly said, "Well, you're one to talk. It's not very well like I've brought it here, wherever _here_ might be since I know I’m not dead."

"Au contraire, mon capitaine. You're the one who's to blame for him being here. Or, would you like to blame Beverly for not being smart enough to get all of the Borg out of you? Either way, it isn’t _my_ fault he's still around." Q pressed a hand to his chest where his heart would have been if he was a human. Imbuing his words with emotion he continued, "Sincerely, Jean-Luc, I've been putting this off for quite some time."

"And what do you intend to insinuate with that? As if you're in control of my fate, Q. You can certainly change the universe, but _I_ am the captain of my soul. We've been down this road before and, as I insisted long ago, the universe is not so badly designed to have put you in charge."

Q looked down at Picard, almost seeming to become slightly bigger with pure bravado rather than actual size as he spat back, "The universe may not have appointed me to be its guardian, but that hardly means I lack control over you, Johnny. You may be a captain, but you're hardly in charge of your 'soul.' Humankind can hardly decide if a soul is even a real thing let alone if anyone controls it."

Jean-Luc was almost taken aback by this display of aggression, but stood his ground nonetheless – not flinching in the slightest. "If you have so much control then why did you chose to let this happen right now?" Picard gestured back to his mechanized twin and continued to sneer, "If you had been keeping it at bay all this time then what's changed? Is this all just one big joke? Were all the ship's systems seeming to read my mind another little bit of entertainment all for you?" He paused to compose himself. Where there was once a fury in his tone there was now just hollowness as he again gestured to Locutus and plainly said, "Because _this_ isn't funny, Q."

Q merely shook his head at Picard’s assertions. He cheekily grinned at the captain before quipping, “Perhaps it’s not funny to you, but it was rather laughable for me. I mean, a man of your stature feeling like he’s gone insane just because he could telepathically order some tea? And then you yelling at an empty room merely because I had left you a note! Oh, Jean-Luc, you slay me!” Q howled and doubled over with laughter at the mere thought of recent events.

Picard grimaced in anger at Q being just about as cryptic as usual and roared over the entity’s howls of laughter, “Well, if it wasn’t your doing then how in God’s name did I do all those things?!”

Q quieted down, straightened up, and rolled his eyes at Picard before saying, “You really are so dense sometimes, mon capitaine. And using my name in vain, too. I ought to burn you for being a witch or something. Or maybe you’d prefer the guillotine? The French were always so egalitarian.”

“Q!”

“Oh, alright, Johnny. You haven’t been any fun at all since your other half showed up over there.” Q waved over at Locutus and then finally told Picard, “The parts of the Borg that Beverly missed were buried deep in that bald head of yours. When I stopped blocking their influence, they synced up to the _Enterprise’s_ computer and voilà: tea, horses, and folk cures with a mere thought.”

Picard covered his face with his hand at how obvious it all seemed now. He sighed and uncovered his face only to yet again see Q’s smug countenance. In striving to seem less imbecilic, Picard pointed out, “You’ve still yet to tell me _why_ you’re doing this.”

“Touché. It’s really very simple. Most would thank and pledge their undying allegiance to me for doing them so big a favor as returning their individuality after being assimilated. So, it’s only reasonable that I should be allowed to ask a favor of you, Jean-Luc.”

The captain incredulously stared at Q for a moment before finally asking, “And what, pray tell, does this ‘favor’ consist of?”

“Oh, nothing _entirely devastating_. I just want you to tell me something, Jean-Luc – answer a riddle, you could say.” He grinned down at Picard and while this request sounded very easy, Picard knew it would most likely end up being quite the opposite.

“I see. What is the riddle and are you going to return me to my ship with my mind restored if I get it right?”

“If you get it right I will return you to your little ship as if the Borg had never set a hand on your body. As well, I have a couple stipulations to add before I pose my question. You will have three guesses before you lose, and if you don’t give me the right answer until after your body in sickbay has been totally reconnected with the collective then you also lose.”

Picard had imagined his body was in sickbay, but had not thought there would be an element of time involved in Q’s game. He almost quaked at the idea he would be assimilated any minute now. Even so, Captain Picard pushed past his fear to at least ask, “And, what happens to me if I lose?”

“I’ll simply shuffle you off your mortal coil or whatever you call it, and then we can spend eternity together. I thought about just letting the Borg have you if you lost, but I decided killing you would be the more humane option. Not to mention, I would have to wait decades longer just to spend the rest of eternity getting your goat.” Q finished his declaration with a satisfied smirk glued to his face and an eyebrow raised as if that alone would get a rise out of his still-mortal companion.

Picard sighed. Why must the stakes always be so extremely high? If his heart was organic, he was sure the sheer stress of his job would have caused him to have countless heart attacks by now. Even so, he knew not what else he could do and conceded, “Alright, Q. I’ll play your game, just tell me your riddle already before I die at your hand.”

“Very well, Picard. Here is my question: How did you to break away from the collective after your little crewmates had retrieved you?”

He stared at Q for several long seconds, sure it was not nearly such a clean cut question as what had just been asked. It was just not Q’s style to be so obvious. Even so, sometimes obvious answers were right so he tentatively said, “Mr. Data was able to tap into my mind by-”

Q almost instantly interrupted him by yelling, “No! That’s one guess lost and if I hear anymore blatantly obvious answers come out of your mouth I may reconsider the terms of this agreement. You’ve been warned, Jean-Luc.” Q snapped his fingers and in a flash he was lounging back in a vinyl beach chair, wearing shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and sunglasses. He smirked up at Jean-Luc and said, “I know you’ll need more time to come up with your next sorry excuse for an answer, so I’m just going to relax until you come crawling back for me to tell you off again.”

Picard pinched the bridge of his nose, so utterly drowning in contempt for all that Q was doing to him. Without another word to the omnipotent being he walked away. He did not need to stare at Q with his foolish chair and attire. It seemed the being was practically rooting for his demise. Picard knew not why Q could not just kill him if that had been his intent all along. Playing these tediously stressful games was hardly a good use of time and energy.

Picard kept walking off into the distance of the blank white horizon that entirely surrounded him. He was going to need some space to just cool down let alone figure out what Q even wanted out of him. He glanced around himself every few paces, and even though he knew the version of Locutus present in his current reality was far from the genuine article, he could not help the shiver that ran up his spine every time he saw the automaton walking parallel to him – still mirroring his every movement.

. . .

Doctor Crusher hovered over Picard’s body, checking his vital signs for what was possibly the tenth time within the hour. Still no change to anything. She could not put her finger on what was wrong with him, and it was starting to frustrate her. Something had forced him into a coma and Data’s description of events did nothing to shine any light on what the captain could possibly be suffering from.

For all she knew his brain could be rotting out of his skull. No matter what, her medical tricorder and all the other equipment in the entirety of sickbay continued to claim he had perfectly normal vital signs. In fact, according to all the machine surrounding them, the captain was at peek physical condition for a man his age. He could get up right that second and run ten marathons while totally unconscious as far as her equipment was concerned.

Beverly so hated not knowing what to do and could hardly do anything more than what she had already done. Without knowing what was really wrong she had tried several of the hyposprays she knew had very few side effects and would bring anyone out of a coma - none of them worked. Nothing made any sense to her. Not even to mention that the Borg were inching closer by the second, and hours before she had been running around with the rest of her staff, just preparing for all the casualties that would come into sickbay should the Borg attack – which they obviously would.

She sighed and, just as she started to walk back to her desk, she heard the doors to sickbay swoosh open. She turned around to see who it could be at such a late hour only to be surprised by a friendly face. She smiled and walked over to where Guinan stood by the doorway. “What brings you here so late at night? The bar not keeping you busy enough?”

Guinan just pointed over to where Picard lay and merely said, “No, but I have an important customer over there who I promised to finish a conversation with.”

Beverly tried to politely deter Guinan from disturbing Picard by saying, “Well, I’m sorry, but I think that conversation may have to wait. The captain isn’t conscious right now, and I don’t know when he’ll wake up.” She added under her breath, “Or what even caused his coma in the first place.”

Guinan matter-of-factly replied, “I know, but I’m sure he could still hear me. He’s a very good listener, after all.”

Crusher sighed and conceded, “I guess it couldn’t hurt since I don’t even know what’s wrong with him anyway.” She gestured over to where Picard was laying and added, “Go right ahead and talk with him as long as you want. If you think anything is wrong with him then tell me. I’ll just be here at my desk.”

“Thank you, Beverly. I know he’s in very capable hands and I’m sure he’ll wake up just fine.” Guinan walked over to the bed that held Picard’s mortal form in its arms until the body’s owner would return. She stood by his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. She spoke so softly and calmly to Picard’s sleeping visage that even the Q Continuum would have had a hard time hearing her.

She did not say anything particularly new to the captain, but rather repeated some words she had known ever since she was a very small girl. The words that had been repeated through generations of her people at times such as this. These words were only ever said when all the poker chips were down on fate’s table. If anyone had asked her what she told the captain, she would simply say, “It’s a very old and long story. I might tell it to you some other day.”

While Guinan said her peace, Doctor Crusher tried to find some kind of clue to Picard’s apparent illness by sorting through old medical files in the ship’s database. She just could not stand idly by when there just might be something to help her patient. If only she knew what had at least brought on his current state. If only she had some small clue to it.

. . .

Picard paced back and forth in the utter whiteness that surrounded him. His mind was about as blank as his surroundings. His Borg shadow was mirroring him with the same back and forth pacing, perfectly synchronized with him. His demons overshadowing his mind were already hard enough to push out through distraction, but a physical embodiment of one of his darkest times was impossible to ignore. He could see the battle of Wolf 359 through Locutus' eyes. He could hear the voices of the collective echoing in his head, "Resistance is futile." He could feel them taking him apart brick by brick until he absolutely _did_ believe resistance was futile. To think that the mental fortress he built to shelter his individuality, the trenches he dug to preserve his very being, and the effort he exerted to even break free and return to normality were all for naught. All the force, all the will power, all the medical procedures, all the counseling, and all the sheer pain – all that he did and he was still not cleansed of the Borg. These were soul crushing thoughts, and he could not stand them for a moment longer.

It was then and there that he stopped dead in his tracks to scream into the snow white abyss he called a prison. Jean-Luc screamed as if his entire being and anguish were projected out through his mouth. When he stopped he was gasping for air. He could feel the strain in his vocal cords from the sheer volume of his voice. He rubbed his throat with one hand while he closed his eyes and tried to center himself. In those long moments he was almost sure he could hear an echo of his scream reverberating through the wasteland even though he was equally sure there were no structures for his voice to echo off of.

Once he had regained his wind, he shook his head to focus himself and turned his back to Locutus – it was the only way he could possibly focus on anything else. He sat down to rest his legs and prevent himself from wasting anymore energy and precious time on pacing. The captain closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

He turned over the events of his assimilation in as clinical terms as he could imagine. He laid out the general timeline in which things took place and mentally examined each happenstance as if it were an ancient fragment of pottery from a long dead civilization. Picard gently brushed off the dust of time and carefully wiped off the emotional grime that coated the specific details of his assimilation. He swiftly ran his fingers over the sections of memory developed among the Borg, but then slowed them down to fully feel the texture of his time on the _Enterprise_ before regaining control of himself.

He vividly recalled his struggle against the captivity of his crew, and heard echoes of their voices in his head. Jean-Luc could hear their abject fear of him and then felt Data’s hand grabbing onto on the one the Borg had given him. He could feel Data rip the attachment from his body and remembered staring into the depths of his golden eyes. Data may say he feels no emotion, but he seemed more than determined in that moment. He seemed to want nothing more than to get the captain back to his original state and Picard recalled he had locked onto that expression. Picard had focused in on Data’s fierce yellow eyes like those of a cat stalking his pray. It seemed as if it were Data’s mere expression that had brought him out of the Borg trance, perhaps even his show of force in removing the arm had given him hope the Borg could be routed out.

Picard opened his eyes to the white nothingness of his current existence and said to himself, “Yes, that _has_ to be it.” He quickly stood up and shouted into the white space above him, “Q, show yourself! I have your answer!”

The entity Picard had wanted to summon appeared in his typical flash of white light and teased, “You rang, mon capitaine?”

Jean-Luc quickly spat out, “Yes, I did. I have the answer to your inane riddle - if you still want to hear it.”

A devilish grin grew across Q’s face and he snapped his fingers. In a flash of light, Picard was standing on a large stage that dropped off to white nothingness a few feet behind where he stood. A large amphitheater of seats were strew in front of him and Q called from the back, “Well, I’m waiting for your brilliant performance, Jean-Luc Picard!”

Picard sighed in annoyance, but said as loudly as he could after screaming so hard, “It was the determination I saw in Data, his uncompromising attitude, and his force that gave me hope. He inspired me to resist the Borg and that allowed me to break from their con-” He stopped short when he heard a tomato whiz past his head and fly off into the blank whiteness.

Q, and many duplicates of himself that had suddenly filled in all the seats, booed loudly at his answer. Picard threw up his hands in frustration and started to walk off the stage. He did not have to take Q’s childish displays. Just as he walked behind the curtains on stage left he saw one big flash and was left in the middle of the desolate white landscape. Q spoke from behind him, exclaiming, “Oh, why must you ruin all my fun, Jean-Luc?”

Picard pivoted on his heel to face the omnipotent being. His face was entirely deadpan and his voice was pure steal as he said, “Perhaps it’s the fact my life and the lives of my crew hang in the balance while I have to tolerate your tomfoolery.”

“You focus _far_ too much on your crew, Picard. Wouldn’t you like to spend eternity with me?” Q began to pace around the captain like a shark circling its prey. He icily continued, “Why, there’s ever so much I could show you. After all, you barely know what’s happened in your own mortal existence. You humans can be so short sighted.”

“You’re not wrong, Q, but I’m going to give you the right answer in due time. Maybe you can show me the universe, but,” Picard momentarily stopped, he thought he had heard someone talking over him – repeating his words in synchronicity to him.

Q stopped to quip, “What is it Jean-Luc? Borg got your tongue?” It was then that Picard looked around and saw his double was still with him.

Picard stared at Locutus while he started to speak again saying, “I am not intimidated-” It was then that he stopped speaking again. He had seen Locutus’ lips move in time with his, say the same words as him, and in that emotionless and computerized tone of the Borg. Picard shivered with horror and revulsion.

The mastermind behind this whole production leaned down and whispered in Picard’s ear, “Tick-tock, Jean-Luc.” Picard did not turn around to face Q, but he was sure he felt the entity flash out of existence after that line.

. . .

An hour or two had passed since Guinan had arrived. Beverly was still dutifully combing through medical files when Guinan had approached her desk. The doctor could feel another person’s presence above her and looked up. The other woman merely said, “I think you need to see what’s happened to Jean-Luc.”

Red flags popped up all over her conscious at such a request but she calmly got up, walked around her desk, and closely followed Guinan over to Picard. The El-Aurian merely looked down at the captain’s face and said, “I don’t want to believe it, but he does have a history with the Borg.” She did not look up from Picard’s face. He was so young compared to her, and such a dear friend. She had seen so many friends lost to the Borg.

It took one glance for Doctor Crusher to see what was wrong. All of the captain’s skin was almost entirely pure white. She quickly ran some scans and, despite his change in appearance, he was apparently still perfectly fit beyond belief or reality. She wanted to pull her hair out at all this.

. . .

Picard stared down his Borg alter-ego. He knew there must not be much more time for him to figure out the answer to Q’s riddle, and yet, he was entirely unable to get past the Borg in front of him. He could hardly bring himself to move let alone think in sweeps of pure logic when he knew that Locutus now had his voice. He took a deep breath in and then slowly exhaled it only to hear Locutus’ reverberating wheeze in time with his breath.

The captain glared at his wan twin with all the more contempt flashing behind his grey eyes. His mirror image gave him the same look, but it seemed so weak and without vitriol. Picard closed his eyes to block out the iteration of himself before him, and thought for a moment. What did Q want out of him? Had he left any hints in their recent dialogues? It was so like Q to hide small signals in his words when he wanted something and knew who he was asking was too stupid to guess the right answer.

Suddenly Picard’s eyes opened - his face alit with realization. Q had said he focused too much on his crew, and both of the answers he had given focused on what the crew had done for him or how they influenced him. It was a possibility that it did not have a single thing to do with what procedures were conducted or the look Data gave him. After all, it had been _his_ fight alone.

Jean-Luc stared at Locutus while intently concentrating on the problem at hand. He spoke aloud with his Borg echo ever present, “ _My_ fight. It has always been _my_ fight _._ My conflict within my own head – my own soul. I have been at odds with myself since the Borg assimilated me, turned me into a monstrosity,” he waved his arms toward his double before continuing, “a shell of my former self. And no matter what I did, to run, to hide, to ignore, this part of me was always still there. I’ve treated him as separate, as an inconsistency in my being, a black spot on my record to be excused with the lack of control I had . . . but he’s still a part of me. I never addressed him because I never wanted to think about what they did to me.”

He stepped forward toward his other half and Locutus mirrored this movement. They were only three or four feet away from each other. Picard looked into the Borg’s eyes, picking up where he had left off to soberly affirm, “You weren’t my fault. I was only ever one man in an entire ship of Borg. No one would have been strong enough to resist them. I’m only human. I was only one Borg out of millions.”

He took a few steps closer to his reflection. They were mere inches apart now as Jean-Luc whispered to himself, “I may have been their spokesperson, but that never changed my humanity. All humans suffer and pain is subjective.” He lifted his right hand, slowly bringing it across and grabbing onto Lucutus’ machine arm as he mirrored Picard’s movements. “It’s what you do once you have suffered that defines you as a human being,” he finally finished as he ripped off his double’s mechanical hand and threw it into the white nothingness beside him.

It was then that Locutus made the first and only move of his own volition. He grabbed onto Jean-Luc’s arm with the only hand he had left, and looked into his human half’s eyes. The captain met his gaze, unflinching and unafraid as the demon that had shrouded his psyche for so long started to dissolve away into their blank surroundings. Just as Locutus had entirely vanished Picard heard his double’s voice hang in the air a moment longer to say, “Thank you.”

Picard felt so at peace with himself for the first time in years. It was then that he heard someone clapping behind him and turned around to see Q was the one praising his performance and shouting, “Bravo, Jean-Luc! I knew you could work it out _eventually_.” Q snapped and roses rained down around Picard. The captain absent mindedly looked up at the roses falling from what appeared to be thin air and he could not help but laugh out loud at Q’s pure insanity. Q smiled at Jean-Luc and then snapped his fingers to hold up his end of the bargain. Picard may not have said the answer to his riddle aloud, but Q knew all, and words tended to be so pedestrian.

Picard awoke in sickbay, still laughing at Q’s awful show, and was soon greeted by not only Doctor Crusher, but also Guinan. They seemed very concerned for him at first, but soon realized he was back to normal despite his seemingly nonsensical fit of laughter.

. . .

It was only later that day that Picard walked out of sickbay without any aid. He had already been told of the mysterious disappearance of the Borg that had been following the _Enterprise._ He was sure that was just another thing of Q’s doing and he thought nothing of it.

He made his way to his quarters. Even though he felt well enough to go back to duty that day, he had decide to give himself a small break after all that had happened. Once Picard arrived at his quarters he decided to take a moment to stargaze. He walked over to the window closest to him and looked out at the entire expanse of the universe before him. Realistically, he had better things to do with his time but he was also acutely aware someone would certainly drop by soon enough.

 It was not long before he heard that cloyingly narcissistic voice breath in his ear, “Don’t you have something to say to me, Jean-Luc? An apology for falsely accusing me? Some expression of gratitude for what I’ve done for you? Or is the Great Captain Jean-Luc Picard too high and mighty to-” It was at that moment that Picard had turned around and hugged Q who, for once in his immortal existence, was at somewhat of a loss and tried to cover it up by feigning xenophobia, “Ugh, how human of you, Jean-Luc.”

Picard pulled back and smiled devilishly, “It also shut you up for a minute. Nevertheless, you’re right. Thank you for helping me clear up the static in my head. I realize now that if you had just told me what happened I wouldn’t have been as affected by the revelation. There’s just one thing I’m rather curious about . . .”

“And what might that be, mon capitaine?” Q smirked and arched his eyebrows as if to insinuate something.

Picard rolled his eyes at the idiotic look on Q’s face and merely said, “It’s just that the ‘game’ you were playing was obviously a ruse. It was merely in place to spur on self-discovery. So would you have really killed me if I hadn’t guessed correctly?”

He chuckled and pointed out, “Jean-Luc, you could hardly say living for eternity with an immortal being is a death.”

“So you really did intend to kill me if I had lost?”

“Well, you can be pretty thick Jean-Luc, but I knew you would figure it out in time.” Q moved away from the window and lounged on Picard’s sofa. “Truthfully, if I had killed you then you probably wouldn’t be much fun anymore. You’d scorn me. You’d somehow manage to get another of the Continuum on your side and have me get kicked out. Really, you’re quite insidious when you want to be, Jean-Luc,” he quipped, in a joking yet mildly frustrated tone. For a long time Picard had figured Q fancied him as much more than just a plaything – probably not in romantic sense a human would know it, but Q obviously enjoyed his company and wit. Picard was not so sure if he would like spending an eternity with Q but, admittedly, when he was not endangering lives he kept things interesting.

Taking Q’s feelings into consideration, Jean-Luc sat in a chair across from him and assured, “It’s not like I’ll live forever, Q. I’m sure you’ll have eternity with me when I’m _meant_ to die and not a moment sooner. Until then you might as well just enjoy toying with me while I’m mortal.”

Q maniacally grinned at Jean-Luc and clutched his chest where his heart would be if he was human, exclaiming, “Oh, you do care! I’m looking forward to spending the rest of eternity with you!” Q snapped his fingers, flashed out of the room, and then flashed to appear again, this time sitting in Picard’s lap.

“Get off my lap! I never asked for such an invasion of my space!”

“Ah, c’est la vie! I’ll guess we’ll just have to do this later! Tata for now, Jean-Luc.” Q kissed Picard on the cheek and then vanished for good. Picard held his head in his hand. Why did eccentric aliens always have to take such a liking to him?

Nonetheless, he eventually got up after he had quite recovered from Q’s intrusiveness. He strolled over to his desk, sat back in his chair, and dictated to the computer, “Captain’s Log, Supplemental: Although I have long lived in Locutus’ shadow I am now free of that burden thanks to Q. He made me see that while I had some help, ultimately, I was the one that overcame the Borg’s suppression of my individuality. When Data ripped off Locutus’ cybernetic hand while trying to make contact with me, I had not been roused, but rather took the opportunity I saw. Removal of that attachment caused a minor power surge through all the Borg implants, and at that very moment I pushed against the collective’s control and, in that small moment, was able to win out against them. I may not have been able to destroy a Borg Cube single handedly, but I was strong enough to sever their control over me when given the chance. I won a very small battle in a long war, and I now accept that Locutus will always be part of me no matter what I do. Even though I could not control Locutus’ actions, I was still Locutus. I remember it all, and I dealt with it the best I could. End Captain’s log.”

He got up and ambled into his bedroom to retrieve a book he might enjoy reading on his day off. Jean-Luc was astounded by what he saw laying on his bed. There must have been a dozen or more bouquets of roses laying there with a note at the foot of his bed. He picked up the familiar looking cream colored paper, already knowing who his benefactor was. In beautifully sweeping gold cursive it read, “To my dear Jean-Luc, for your recent success against the Borg. Don’t forget this.” He had to smile a little bit at that.

“Oh, I won’t, Q. I’ll never forget who I am.”


End file.
